DA: Requiem
by Banbha
Summary: A lost templar is washed up on the shores of Redcliff, a victim of tragedy from Kinloch Hold. He is one of the few survivors from Uldred's tortures. Only thing, he doesn't remember those events before awakening at Redcliff. OC with appearances from DAO/II
1. Prologue

**Dragon Age: Requiem  
Prologue **

_The clang of steel echoed off the corridors of the student level, as he fought another abomination. It seemed an endless battled of corrupted mages and demons but he had to push on to the master's level and face Uldred! Cullen, a young templar knight, was at his side protecting his flank and following his barked commands. _

"_We need to get to the stairs!" He yelled; sweat streaming down his face and trickling down his neck under the armor. _

"_I hope Gregoire was able to find reinforcements." Cullen grimaced as he pulled his sword out from another changed mage._

"_It wouldn't surprise me if he enacted the call for Annulment!"_

"_He wouldn't! Not every mage in here is guilty!" Cullen cried out._

"_It is the best solution when corruption has been unloosed in a circle, Cullen. It would be my choice, despite the innocents that may remain. We cannot let the abominations leave Kinloch!"_

"_But…" Cullen stuttered, surprised that his captain could be so cold about the sentence that would kill every mage in the tower, even children._

_Victor stared hard at Cullen, his face grim. He didn't get to be captain of the templars being soft-hearted. He knew his duty to the tower and to the chantry. Many of the mages at Kinloch feared and respected the templar captain. Very few, whether mage or fellow templar liked him that much, for he had a no-nonsense and hard attitude regarding magic that left little room for mercy. That was fine by him; order was needed with those that sowed chaos among the ranks. Because of someone's lack of due diligence, chaos erupted in Kinloch Hold and Uldred was wreaking chaos. It was an affront on Victor that he didn't suspect before now what the mage was doing. _

"_Harden your heart, templar! A turned mage has no problem in ripping it out and feeding it to their demon puppet! Once they are an abomination, the person they once were is no longer there! There is no mercy in blood magic!"_

"_Yes, knight-captain!" Cullen hitched up his shoulders and plowed on to the upper level stairs that led to the Harrowing Chamber._

He woke up with a start to stare at a dark ceiling. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest from the dream. Was it a dream? Victor sat up and wiped the cold sweat from his face. It felt like a nightmare but it was more vivid and real. Could it be a memory? Shaking his head, Victor tried to hold onto to the rapidly fading dream. Whatever it was, it left him feeling cold inside. He turned to look around the room that was given him in the castle. Why was he here? He was no one; he couldn't even remember where he was before his arrival on the shores of Redcliff just a few weeks prior. Nothing was left of his former possessions but a sword and a leather necklace that held an amulet on it. He didn't recognize the symbol on the amulet but it must be important to who he was.

Sighing, Victor swung his legs over the bed and hung his head for a moment. It was still a couple of hours before dawn and he couldn't sleep anymore. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed the mussed sheets on the other side of the bed. The woman was long gone, for which he was thankful. The nights that he had these dreams or nightmares, left an ashen taste in his mouth and him in a dour mood. Someone must have answers to his past but he wasn't sure he wanted to search for them yet.

Bann Teagan was the only one that rang some familiar bell in his locked past, and the man took him in and put the lost man up in the castle. The troubles with the little boy were taken care of by the Grey Wardens that had come to enlist the arl's aid for some great army to fight the darkspawn. However, the arl was sick and they left in search of a cure for whatever ailed Teagan's brother.

The man rose from the bed and walked to the washbasin sitting on a bureau. Pouring out cold water and dipping his hands in it, Victor splashed the water on his face. The slap of cold snapped the funk of the nightmare from his mind. Reaching for a towel that was folded next to the basin, he dried off his face and looked up to see his reflection.

He was a man nearing his forties, with chiseled features and a strong cleft chin. Some women found him attractive but he thought his features were a little on the harsh side. The eyes were intense, the soft muddied green piercing you through his tanned face. Victor kept his face clean-shaven and hair extremely short to where it laid close to his head. It felt natural to him, thus he continued with the close cut and clean face.

Victor.

The name he remembered as his own but where he was before Redcliff, what he did, or if he had family or friends, it was all a blank to him. Only one man recognized him since he washed up on the lakeshore, and that man claimed to be an old friend. He wanted to talk and question Teagan but events at Redcliffe and the castle kept the man busy helping the arlessa. For Victor, he wandered around the castle and down into the village. He would eye the chantry but steered clear of it. Hazy emotions came from the chantry to which made his stomach flutter with apprehension. Victor vaguely remembered the first couple of weeks since waking up. He was in pain, craving for something but unsure what. It felt like his entire body was on fire and it was going to consume him. People would hold him down from all the thrashing about he did. Only one small soft voice would pierce his hazy brain and soothe him.

The pain eventually faded but it left him extremely weak. Victor hated that feeling. He hated being weak and having people pitying him and doing things for him, such as dressing and feeding him. The man pushed himself to get out of being bedridden, not wanting to have to rely on people to help him dress, piss, or eat, anymore than was necessary.

Here it was three months since his recuperation and Victor was restless. Teagan was gathering any man or woman that could fight into an army. Victor felt a need to do something and something nagged at the back of his mind that he had skills that would help the bann. Looking back at his reflection, Victor stared at himself, trying to remember anything of his former life. Growling, he threw the towel down on the bureau and went to dress. Standing here being maudlin wasn't going to accomplish anything, he thought. It was time for action and stop imposing on the arl's hospitality. Victor was going to earn his keep! There was war coming and Teagan needed all men that could handle arms. He thought he was one of those men.

Striding with long brisk strides, Victor stood in front of the wardrobe, pulling the doors open and grabbing for the first shirt and a pair of leather breeches he threw in there from last night. The shirt was sleeveless and laced in the front, which was fine. If he was going to go and see if he could handle a sword, it was best to be in something that allowed free movement while he tested whatever knowledge was locked away in him. They say that muscles never forget routine. Victor prayed that was so.

Once dressed, he pushed his feet into a pair of boots, jerking the lacing on them to tighten the calf length boots. They were good boots, supple leather, strong lacing, and thick soles. Teagan gave him good clothing to wear, which Victor was thankful for. He got a feeling that he liked well-made things, having no patience to deal with shoddy work and looking for a replacement on things that should have been done right the first time.

Standing up, Victor went to the door of his room and headed out, in search of the garrison of knights that were at the castle. They would be able to help him and have the weapons for training. Knights were the epitome of warriors, having both martial prowess and honor. Victor felt pulled to that for it felt familiar, comfortable. With these feelings, Victor hoped it was the right course, or else he would feel like a fool if his extinct were wrong.

Here's praying to the Maker that his instinct was not wrong.


	2. Chapter 1

**Dragon Age: Requiem  
Chapter One**

The amiable laughter sounded from the castle knight's garrison. Victor slowed his steps down before approaching the open door. He didn't want to appear to be harried or anything, but a man that cool and collected and wanting to see if he truly could wield a weapon. One of the knights that Victor was familiar with, a Ser Seamus, grinned when he spotted Victor at the threshold of the garrison.

"Victor! Come on in, my friend!" the boisterous knight yelled across the space. "I didn't expect to see you up and about this early in the morning. I thought some girl was warming your bed last evening."

"There was but she left like a thief in the night, leaving nothing but cold sheets and her lingering perfume." Victor bantered back. "Alas, now I am left with the memories of an enjoyable evening."

Seamus laughed, "I'm sure you could sweep another chamber maid off her feet in no time."

"We shall see, serrah, we shall see. Anyway, aside from the lovely pleasures of the softer kind, I actually came here with a purpose. I want to see about joining the castle's army."

The knight looked at Victor in slight shock, setting his mug down on the table. The man was a large bear but had a gentle soul. Still, he was an able and ferocious fighter, thus he was named Seamus the Bear. For a man in his early forties, his fair freckled complexion and shock of carrot colored hair made him appear far younger than his years.

"Do you know how to handle a sword?" Seamus asked.

"I don't know but I was found with one, thus I assume that I used it and know how to handle one. I would like to see if something comes back when wielding one."

"Hmmm, well, there is something to that, ser." Seamus unfolded his large frame from the bench and walked over to one of the weapons stands in the garrison's main hall. Two other knights watched curiously, wanting to see if this lost man could do as he claims or would Victor fail and be made a fool.

He had to prove to them and to himself that he could do this task. That sword that was kept up in his room remained with him for a reason. Victor memorized the feel of the hilt in his hand, knowing instinctively that it was precisely balanced to his need. The leather was smoothed and molded to his fingers. The flaming sword on the crossguard was what had Victor puzzled. He didn't know what it meant. There was a chantry in Redcliff but the templar knights had left Redcliff before the troubles with the dead. Some said they were recalled to the Circle to handle some problems there. Others say they were called by the Divine to go to Ostagar and watch over the mages that joined Cailan's army. Way, Victor hadn't seen neither them, nor their symbol. Victor never had an opportunity to ask any knight or Teagan about the symbol or the sword. Things were chaotic in Redcliff and the arlessa with her whining, nasally voice, which grated on Victor's nerves, always seemed to demand the bann's time.

"Here, this is a standard longsword that the squires practice with. Try it and see how it feels." Seamus walked up to Victor with a battered and unembellished longsword.

Victor wrapped his fingers around the worn hilt, hefting the weight and automatically feeling that it was slightly bottom-heavy in the pommel. He compensated for this and took a tentative swing with the blade. Seamus jumped back and laughed. However, Victor paid him no mind, concentrating on the feel of the blade in his hand, treating it like an extension of his arm. He lunged, bearing his shoulder into the lunge and then stepped back for a feint. His body moved fluidly in motion to a trained set of exercises of lunges, parries, feints, guards, and some offensive maneuvers that templars only know. The knights in the garrison sat by, dumbstruck that this man with no memory go through the basic moves on up to mastery level.

After an hour, Victor shook himself out of the trancelike state of the sword dance and quickly caught the towel thrown in his face. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Victor looked up to the surprised looks of Seamus and the other knights.

"None of us have mastered some of those moves you did." Seamus said softly. "I guess once the muscle knows, it never forgets. Serrah, I believe you do know how to wield a sword."

"That good?" Victor asked.

Seamus snorted loudly, "Fucking good, ser!" He clapped Victor on the shoulder. "Catch your breath and we will go to the yard and see what else your body can remember, eh?"

Victor smiled, "Sounds like a plan, Seamus."

When the sun reached the high noon zenith, Seamus called for a stop. His face was beet red and sweating profusely. He long discarded his tunic and went bare-chested in the training yard. Many of the returning knights and some of the castle residents hung around to watch Victor and the red bear spar with each other. The two men bantered and taunted each other, even some points people thought that the two men were going to kill each other from the insults that were flung about. Seamus laughed heartily while Victor grinned wolfishly.

Victor had to admit he enjoyed himself with the sparring. After the long sword, he tried knives, then axes, and greatswords. Then for fun, he and Seamus wrestled at the end, each winded and exhausted in a good way from the physical exertion. This was the first day that Victor felt proud and good about himself. He knew something about his skills what he was capable of, and what he preferred. Long swords were fine and all, but Victor seemed to gravitate more toward the two-handed bastard swords. Seamus scoffed at him for handling the meat cleaver of swords, saying there was no finesse with the thing. Victor proved him wrong, however, as his feet and body moved in a dance to swing, parry and feint with the large sword.

The two men bowed to the waiting applause from their audience and then promptly flopped down under the shade of the oak tree in the corner of the yard. Seamus panted, wiping the sweat from his face and chest.

"So, I guess we know what you can and can't do."

"I think I proved that I can do about anything." Victor leaned his head back and then turned to see a young girl with a water bucket and tin cup. He accepted the cup of water and thanked the girl, seeing the pink tinge bloom across her cheeks.

"Even make young girls blush with your simple courtesy." Seamus chortled.

"What can I say? It's a gift."

"You must have been quite the ladies man."

Victor sighed, closing his eyes. "I wish I knew what I was, who I was, shit…even I was quite the ladies man, as you put it. I certainly don't find a shortage of lovely young ladies vying for attention."

"Indeed. You make the rest of the knights look bad, for they can't hope to gain the attentions of said ladies, for fear that they see nothing but you."

"I don't know why." Victor opened one eye to look at Seamus.

Seamus snorted. "Either you are dense or are truly not aware of the sex appeal you have, ser!"

"I'm a new face, an unknown, with one of these women hoping that they can 'fix me' one day. What needs fixing? What is broken for that matter?"

"Now now, that is beyond me, Victor!" Seamus laughed softly. "Don't try to understand women. Just nod and say 'yes' to them."

"So says the sage one about women!" Victor laughed. "How did that affair with that little blonde go?"

"Hey, hey! We are still seeing each other!" Seamus grinned, his ears turning bright red.

"Ah…so, it is serious then."

"Aye, it is."

"Then, Seamus, good luck with that." Victor sighed wistfully. He wondered if there someone wondering about him, yearning for his return. Did he have a loved one? A wife? Did they have a child? Looking deep inside, Victor didn't think so. He got the feeling that he was involved with someone or something that demanded much of his attention.

Jowan spooned the food around in his bowl grumpily. Yes, it wasn't the Circle but his movements were limited and he still had to spend time teaching the arl's son on how to control his magic, lest the Fade rip into the castle yet again. However, he wasn't allowed to eat with the rest of the family and knights in the main hall. No, he was relegated to the kitchens, eating porridge, before retiring to his new cell for the night.

Sighing, he dropped the spoon in the bowl and pushed it away. Jowan happened to look up as he heard one of the kitchen maids giggle loudly and a male voice following her. He froze as he watched the man walk into the kitchen and snatch a carrot from the worktable in the center of the kitchen, getting a polite smack on the hand by the cook.

"No, it can't be!" he whispered, fear seeping into his bones as he watched the tall, muscular man walk around inspecting pasties and sniffing at the stew over the hearth. As he turned his head fully, Jown gasped quietly. "By the Maker, it's him!"

He stumbled up from the bench, cursing as the skirt of his robes was caught on some splinter. Jowan needed to go before the templar noticed him. It wasn't any templar knight, no, it just happened to be Kinloch Hold's own knight-captain! For Jowan, he had every right to be afraid of the man.

"Andraste's knickers!" Jowan cried out as he tripped on the hem of his robes and fell to the stone floor.

A set of strong hands helped him up from the floor and asked after him. "Are you alright, serrah?"

Jowan's eyes widened in fright and surprise as the templar looked at him. "I…I'm…f.."

"Are you sure? You tore the hem of your robe there." Victor asked in concern, oblivious that he stood before a malificarum.

"Y.., I'm sure. It's…a little too long. I'm always tripping on it." Jowan gave a sickly laugh. He looked at Victor oddly, wondering why the man didn't smite him on the spot or apprehend him.

"You should see if one of the maids here can hem it up for you."

"I..just…might." Jowan nodded.

Victor looked at him strangely, as if he was searching for something but Jowan tried not to encourage a deeper inspection of his person. "Do I know you?"

Jowan blinked in surprise. Does he know him? Was the man serious? The knight-captain busted him several times for sneaking around the tower after curfew. Even one time, the knight-captain even administered his punishment of a switching. "N..no." Jowan squeaked out, shaking his head.

The templar narrowed his eyes a moment and then shook his head. "Look into getting that shortened, serrah. I might not be around to catch you if you trip down the stairs." The man turned away, snatched another carrot from the table, and headed out of the kitchen.

He breathed a sigh of relief but was puzzled by the knight-captain's reaction to seeing Jowan. The man acted as if he didn't recognize Jowan. Jowan had plenty of trips to the knight-captain's office for some scrape or misadventure or another. He would even say they have gotten to know each other well. Still, Jowan never wanted to press Knight-Captain Victor's temper more than necessary. The man was all about duty and keeping his charges in line. He was strict, a disciplinarian and a devout man to the Chantry and the Order. This Victor wasn't that man from the circle.

Jowan's guard came in to get him and escort him back to his cell for the rest of the day. He chewed at his lower lip in contemplation of the strange encounter with Victor. On a whim that his guard may know, Jowan asked a question. "That man that passed through the kitchens, what's his story?"

The guard looked at the malificarum guardedly. "He washed up on the shores down in the village a few weeks back. Has no memory of how he got there or who he is, except for a name."

"So, he remembers nothing of his prior life?" Jowan raised his eyebrows.

"Not much. Bann Teagan knows him and gave him shelter in the castle."

"Interesting." Jowan said more to himself than in response to his escort.


	3. Chapter 2

**Dragon Age: Requiem  
Chapter Two**

Over the weeks, Victor trained with the guards, knights and the gathering fighters from the village. Some days, training was in the courtyard of the castle, other days, it was down in the heart of Redcliff. Either way, Victor filled his days up with wielding and dancing with a sword. His body remembered the motions of fighting, how to armor up, fix broken straps, and a lot of other skills but as for the memory of how he got to be where he was, it was a blank. When he finally worked up the nerve to see the grand cleric of the chantry, Victor heard something that he hadn't considered before.

"Usually, when something traumatic happens in a person's life, they tend to block out that part of their memory." She told Victor as they walked around the central courtyard in Redcliff village.

"You think so?"

She doted on Victor with sympathetic eyes. "With warriors and soldiers, it is most often the case."

"But I washed up on the shore…so I couldn't have come from far. What's up north in the lake?" Victor asked, suddenly curious what was up there that might lead to a clue of who he was.

This time, the grand cleric frowned and fidgeted, wringing her fingers in wanting to tell this man of no past that the mage's circle laid that way, and the circle was broken. There was a scant few templars holding Kinloch Hold now and news of any reinforcements to take care of the remaining untouched students and full mages was not coming. Fereldan was embroiled in a civil war after the events of Loghain's leave taking at Ostagar. The world outside of Redcliff seemed far away but it didn't leave them untouched. Refugees from the outlying farmholds surged to the village and the castle, seeking shelter from the darkspawn and bandits. Teagan and Isolde did what they could with the uprooted families.

Even the chantry's walls were filled with families needing shelter. The grand cleric did the best she could when her sisters and mothers were hard pressed to serve everyone.

"Well?" Victor pressed the grand cleric again when she had gone quiet with her ruminations.

"The Circle is up there."

"Circle?" Victor looked at her in puzzlement. His brow furrowed as he tried to connect meaning to the word with some concept of what it was supposed to be, other than a geometric shape.

"Yes, the Circle…where mages go to train." The cleric waved a hand dismissively. "Don't concern yourself with it anymore. There is also a small inn on the shore there, so you could have easily been a traveler passing through."

Victor shook his head. "I don't think so."

Unsatisfied with the talk, he bid the cleric farewell and walked down to the lakeshore; right to the spot he was found. Victor looked out over the water, taking in the serene scene of the soft waves rippling across the surface. Off in the distance, the hazy image of Kinloch Hold could be seen on the horizon. The sight of the place in the middle of the water unsettled him. The former templar couldn't understand why it did, only that he wasn't anxious to go to the place to find some answers to the blanks in his memory.

Sighing deeply, Victor crossed his arms and stood there, an image of a tall, bulky man contemplating some past war or notion of that sort. The only other man that stood taller than he was his friend Seamus. Victor surmised that he must have been accustomed to wearing heavy armor, as the muscle on his large frame was built to hold the heavy weight of plate. Then, as Victor looked back on that strange meeting with that young man in the kitchen, he caught fear in that man's eyes. Fear of him and this puzzled Victor. He never saw the young man before that meeting in the kitchen. So, what was it that frightened him? It seemed that more and more, little things kept crossing his path, whether people or some turn of phrase that had Victor paying special attention to the matter. Teagan reassured him that his memory would come back when he was ready. When Victor pressed the bann about how they knew each other, what was he and other questions, Teagan would laugh softly and tell Victor to slow down.

Before Teagan was called, Victor did find out that their fathers had been friends, as his family had moved to Fereldan from the Free Marches. Victor asked from where in the Marches but Teagan shook his head and told him he didn't know. They were both of the same age, and they were too young to remember much about what the adults said or did back then. Well, at least Victor had established that he and Teagan had been childhood friends. Of course, Teagan would get sad as he remembered his older sister and when he and Eamon had been sent away to the Marches during the height of the rebellion against the Orlesians.

Something about this had triggered a small flash, remembering the feel of a swaying boat for the second time.

"A copper for your thoughts, Vic." Teagan came up to stand next to Victor on the shore.

"Thinking about our conversations. When you mentioned the trip to the Marches when Rowan and Marric sent you away, it triggered something."

Teagan chuckled. "As well it should. You were sent with us. Mother promised your father that she would look after you as one of her own while they went off to war. If you hadn't been there, I would have died of boredom on the ship!"

Victor laughed softly. "Eamon was so serious, now being the man of the house."

The bann looked over to Victor and grinned. "He literally was, after we got news that father had died on the battlefield."

Shaking his head, more flashes of a gangly boy popped in Victor's head, along with a scrawny and hyperactive boy with him. These two boys would often go exploring and get into scrapes, coming back to the small keep in the Marches, covered in mud or grass stained, often to the dismay of the servants and Teagan's mother. "We were a couple of rapscallions."

"You remember that, eh?"

"It's coming back some." Victor nodded and looked back out to the water again. There was a bout of silence while more of this lost childhood started coming back. The loss of his father, the trip back to Redcliff and being fostered to Rowan and Marric, but instead of going to Denerim, he remained in Redcliff. Teagan was overjoyed to have Victor remain. "I remember Rowan with child, when we were young men of twelve. She stayed at Redcliff to avoid the stress of the castle in Denerim." Victor smiled fondly. "Beautiful woman."

"She was." Teagan agreed.

"Did you know I had a crush on her?" Victor looked at Teagan sideways.

"Most young men there did."

"However, she was sad. So sad." Victor's voice trailed off.

Teagan nodded and looked out to the lake. He was happy to have some of his old friend back, even if there were holes in his memory. Clasping a hand on the large man's shoulder, Teagan gave it a friendly squeeze. "It is good to have you back, Victor. For your sake, whatever happened to your memory, it comes back. At least, our childhood wasn't permanently gone."

"Talking to you helps."

"Well, yes, I'm sorry I haven't been around more. Isolde can be…" Teagan shuddered.

"How can you stand that tone in her voice?" Victor turned to look at the bann.

"To be honest, I can't. My brother has far more patience with Isolde than anyone I know. She even taxed the Warden's patience."

"The Warden, he is the last of the Cousland's, isn't he?"

"Yes. Malcolm, along with Alistair, are the last of Fereldan's Wardens too. The task before them is daunting and I don't envy them. All I can do, until Eamon is cured, is prepare an army for them to take to the Arch Demon."

"And then there is Teryn Loghain."

"Don't remind me." Teagan growled. "We had been free of war for over twenty-five years and then this. I was hoping to grow old with a family of my own before seeing another war that tore the country apart."

"First, you need a wife in order to get that family." Victor's mouth crooked upwards at the corners.

"Details," Teagan laughed. "How can I find a wife when all the eligible maids are fawning over you every time you walk by?"

Victor shrugged. "I don't encourage them, it just happens."

"You never 'encourage', my friend, you just look at them once and you get them hooked. If I had half of that magic with the women, I would find a bride in short order."

"Please, feel free to take some!" Victor said. "They are pretty to look at and flirt with, maybe take one to bed for a night but…"

"They can't hold your interest." Teagan sighed. "I understand, I do. That is my problem, too. I thought Eamon was crazy for marrying Isolde, an Orlesian, but watching the two of them over the years, they do love each other."

"And that is something to treasure when you find it. I am finding the freedom of women…liberating, but…I don't know. I feel that something called to me that superseded the need for that sort of relationship."

"That…"

"Bann Teagan! They have returned! The Wardens have returned!" a messenger came running up to the men, panting excitedly.

"They have been gone for two months and already they return?" Teagan looked surprised. "Did they…"

"Go on, Teagan, I'm going to stay here for a bit."

"Thank you, my friend." The bann rushed after the young man and hurried back to the castle.

Maybe the Wardens had found the legendary Ashes of Andraste, Victor thought. Part of him had hoped that was the case and it would work in curing whatever ailment Eamon suffered. This was a strange time where everything was turned upside down and so much suffering pervaded the land. Even here in the little corner of Redcliff, Victor could sense the despair and desperation of the people of Fereldan.

Hopefully, with training the able men and women of Redcliff that could fight, when the time came to for the final battle against the darkspawn, that they would be ready. Victor had to admit that he was looking forward to that day. It was a goal for him to work towards, as he needed to have some purpose in this new life of his. Giving a small grunt, Victor left the lakeside and headed back into Redcliff and to the tavern. He needed a drink.

"Serrah Victor! It is good to see you again!" Bella called out as he entered, blinking into the dim light of the tavern. She wiped her hands on her apron and approached him.

"Afternoon, Bella. How's business faring?"

"Much better now once Lloyd left to defend the village. I feel bad he didn't survive but since taking over management, the customers are coming regularly. You see, I don't water the ale like Lloyd used to." Bella winked at Victor.

He laughed. "Watered ale is a terrible thing for business."

"Your usual then, serrah?"

"Yes, please." Victor nodded and went to his usual corner that looked outward on the tavern, so he could watch people. Also, he didn't like having his back exposed. The men from the militia that was off duty were carousing away cheerily, relaxing from the day's stresses. One of Bella's serving maids received a friendly passing pat by one, which in turn, she swatted away playfully. Victor had to respect the new owner of Redcliff's tavern. Bella was tough but fair to the new staff. There was nothing wrong with a little flirting or teasing but Bella made it known that if any customer got too rowdy with her girls, they would be tossed out.

Her girls were to be respected and tipped well for their service. The service did not include a quick tumble off in some corner. Bella came back with his drink personally and took a seat across from him. Thanking her, Victor drank most of the ale before setting the mug back down.

"So, Bella, what is on your mind?"

"I was wondering if you had any plans for the evening." She asked boldly.

"Why would you be interested in my evening plans?" Victor raised an eyebrow in question as he leaned back against the wall.

"I was thinking that such a big man as yourself, that trains the militia and practices most days, would enjoy a home cooked meal."

"I get a decent meal from the castle's kitchen." Victor stated.

"Well…yes, true." Bella flushed a little at Victor's straightforward statement. "But I think a special meal, just for you and in a quieter setting would be a nice change of pace, no?"

Victor's mouth turned up at the corners and he sat forward, leaning over the table toward the tavern owner. "Bella, are you inviting me to a quiet dinner…with you?"

"Is it such a horrible idea?" Her brown eyes glinted in mirth at him.

"No, it is a lovely thought."

"But…" Bella's smile faded some.

"You are a sweet girl, Bella. I don't remember much of my past but I do know that I would break your heart. Even if this was just a special one-night thing, I will not do that to you and spare you the heartache. So, let's keep this friendly, and I will remain your faithful patron, shall we?"

Bella's face closed, as if she didn't know whether to be affronted, shocked, or thankful for Victor's blunt honesty. "It was just a dinner, serrah." She said stiffly.

"And I know your reputation." Victor dropped his voice. "I will not add to it and be the village's latest gossip of Bella's latest fling." His green eyes stared into her brown, an almost hard edge lined his smile. "Have a little respect for yourself, and have respect for me."

Now her eyes flared at Victor. Quietly she said, "You arrogant bastard!"

His eyes hardened at the epitaph. "Watch where you go with that, Bella. I enjoy my time with you here in the tavern and our little spar of words but if I wanted a quick fuck, it would be with some whore that I don't have to see again. As long as I remain in Redcliff, I would love to keep our relationship healthy and friendly."

Her mouth opened as if to protest or spit out something hateful to Victor but snapped shut with a click of her teeth. Yes, he spoke bluntly and could have been a bit more diplomatic but Bella deep down knew the truth of what Victor said. After all, she told her girls never to mix business with pleasure, should she be exempt from the same rule she had set down? Still, he had come down hard, though quietly, and that had hurt her pride.

Seeing that Bella had come to some sort of decision or revelation in her head, Victor picked up Bella's white knuckled hand from the table and brought it to his lips, giving it a gentlemanly kiss. "Good girl. I'm only thinking about both of our reputations."

Forcing a smile on her face, Bella spoke. "You really can be a bastard, Victor."

"I never claimed to be a saint."

"But I heard that Laila…"

"That little chit of a servant from the castle? Again, take heed with what I said. It was a quick thing and I never really saw her again. That girl has quite the…roving appetite." Victor worked his mouth a bit to put it nicely in how to describe that little fling with the servant. "Let's say she is a favorite among the knights, shall we?"

"Only one night?"

"One."

"That little lying minx." Bella growled softly.

"Now, that we have straightened things out, my dear, how about another ale?" He raised his eyebrows, giving Bella a boyish smile that most of the women in Redcliff melted over. Her ire quickly dashed away, chuckling as she stood up and took his empty tankard.

Victor was a charmer, Bella knew but she saw another side to him that was hard and could be cruel in his blunt honesty of telling things the way it was. He was showing himself to be a complicated man, even a dangerous one if you happened to be on the wrong side of his opinion or temper. Bella didn't want to experience his full sense of cruelty. Some part of her thought, Victor's temperament matched the templar's in many ways.


	4. Chapter 3

**Dragon Age: Requiem  
Chapter Three**

"PICK UP YOUR GUARD!" Victor yelled out to one of the new militia recruits.

He shook his head and stalked over to the young man. He was too old to make a good soldier but with work, the young man might survive killing himself with his own sword when it came to fighting darkspawn. Victor shoved a hand under the man's elbow, lifted it to where the sword was now in front of the fighter's chest, and outstretched. The opponent then rushed in and met steel where it was an opening to flesh a second before. The young man paled as the blow rang down his sword through his arm.

"If you didn't raise your guard, you would be dead now. Now, do the drill again!"

"Yes, ser!" The young man nodded, licked his lips, and went into a defensive posture.

Victor stepped back and watched with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He watched with a critical eye at the newest member to Redcliff's army. The young man didn't have a lot of muscle on his frame but that was because he was of some minor nobility that lost his home to darkspawn and the ensuing civil war. The Warden and Eamon's nephew had come back with the Ashes of Andraste and cured the arl of his ailment. There was a lighter air in Redcliff castle and village as the arl recovered.

With Eamon up and moving around now, order in Redcliff came back. Preparation for the army to join the Warden at Denerim was ramping up, with Victor taking a lead in the training of the new whelps that came to the castle. Teagan smiled at his old friends luck and even laughed when Victor would growl menacingly and complain about fools not knowing what end of the sword to point at the enemy with. Despite all his impatience for foolishness, Victor trained with a firm hand and made the recruits go through drills until it was remembered and they could run through the routines blindfolded. There were grumbles from the men and women of what a bastard he was but because of Victor's giving no quarter for weakness and pushing when most would have given up. The men and women actually started to surprise him as he randomly called out maneuvers and they would fall into the guards and stances without second thought.

His mind started to wander, while keeping a part of his mind on the newest recruit going through the routines.

_The young man of seventeen years bent over, gasping for breath and with sweat dripping off his face. The sword that was in his hand moments before laid on the ground with utter disrespect. The heavy booted footfalls of the tall templar stopped in front of him, standing before him not saying a word. _

"_Cullen…get up and run through the drill again." Victor softly ordered._

"_N…no." Cullen gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering as exhaustion swept through him. _

"_Did I say you had a choice?" Victor said in a deceptively calm voice. "Getting this maneuver down by heart is paramount to your survival as a templar. Is the demon or blood mage going to stand there and wait for you to get your breath back because you are winded and can't hold a sword?"_

"_B..b..but…" Cullen stuttered._

"_Maker's Breath, recruit!" Victor exploded in impatience. He reached down, grabbed Cullen's sword with one large hand and the other hauled up his templar recruit. "Strip down to the waist and take your sword!"_

"_W…what?" Cullen blinked in surprise._

"_Strip down. You can't seem to fight in chain so let's get you fighting bare-chested. And to even the odds, I'll do the same."_

_Cullen turned bright red and started to stutter something but Victor gave him a hard, do-not-argue look as he proceeded to slip off the chain hauberk and surcoat of his rank. Pulling his giant sword from its scabbard on the weapons rack, Victor strolled out to the center of the training ring. He watched his recruit fumble at the laces of his own hauberk and the padded jerkin that was worn underneath to prevent chaffing. Tentatively, Cullen grabbed his sword, looked down at his bare chest over the split skirt all templars wore over leather breeches. The young man hadn't fully filled out into his mature muscle but there was decided definition of hardness starting since Cullen had joined the order, refined more when he was assigned to Kinloch Hold. Victor was lucky enough to get the young man under his charge._

_Victor was tough on Cullen but he saw raw potential. The young man was an idealist and had an unshakable faith in the Maker and Andraste. He was good with sword and shield, but had not quite mastered the techniques of fighting the dual combination together smoothly. The use of the templar abilities, Cullen quickly mastered. His martial skills, however, needed refining. The one thing Victor liked about Cullen was the man's even temper and quick grasp of logistics and tactics. If the man survived to take his full vows and become apprentice, Victor saw Cullen rising in the ranks quickly to become captain. _

"_On guard!" Victor bellowed, raising the large sword up in salute. _

_Cullen looked up to his trainer with trepidation but once Victor moved in with the first feint of the greatsword, he snapped into the pattern of the sword dance. He slid sideways and brought his sword to slide the large opposing blade away. Victor didn't smile his pleasure only moved to the next pattern. They went through the whole routine once and Victor started again, picking up speed. Cullen swallowed his exhaustion and gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to show weakness again in front of this formidable knight-captain._

"Much better. Not perfect but better. You can at least keep the sharp edge away from through throat this time." Victor told the latest recruit, slipping out of his reverie without a blink.

Over the weeks, odd snippets of his past were popping up. When he tried to think of recent history, his mind still drew a blank. However, Victor remembered his father, Teagan and Eamon, and their own pretend sword play in the castle yard.

Today, though, his flashback showed a similar situation to what was going on now and as Victor concentrated on the fleeting memories, he almost grasped the sigil on the garments he and the other recruit were wearing. As he tried to voice what it was, it slipped beyond reach. There came a crash of a clanging sword against a shield, plate and the chink of chain. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply to keep from losing his temper, Victor opened them onto the tripped up pile of the young noble entangled in his scabbard and shield on the ground.

"Seamus! Deal with the whelp, I'm done with him for today." Victor snorted in disgust.

Seamus roared in laughter and went over to help the young man. Pinching his nose, Victor turned away and walked to the ramparts that overlooked the northern end of the lake. The haze made the dark tower in the distance an indistinct shape on the horizon. He still got a nervous flutter when he looked at it and was still no closer to an answer as to why. Then again, Victor had not been really trying to take some time to up north to that inn the mother superior had told him about, with the ferry that led to the Circle.

"Ah, how did I know you would be up here?" Teagan walked up and joined his friend at the rampart.

"It's become routine after I deal with an agonizing afternoon training children to fight with the right end of a blade."

"Surely it isn't that bad!"

"There is potential with some but the latest batch from that bann something or other," Victor shook his head. "what a graceless lot."

"As long as they can hold the right end of the sword, that is all that is needed." Teagan sighed.

Victor looked back out on the lake and a flash of epiphany struck him senseless. "Templar." He whispered. The more he thought of the word, the more at home it felt and true.

"What was that?" Teagan queried.

"I was a templar." Victor answered Teagan. "Knight-captain. I had a flash back to a similar training session of one of my recruits. Another one of those gangly youths but he had potential." He squinted at the horizon where that dark looming tower was. "What happened there that I have placed those memories of reach?"

Victor felt a hand on his shoulder as Teagan gave a squeeze. "I don't know. The Warden does but he didn't talk much about the events there."

"On some level, I don't want to know."

"You have gotten a lot back, so maybe in time, it will come to you. To know you were a templar is a large piece of knowing who you are. Come, dinner is ready."

Giving one last look at Kinloch Hold, Victor turned away and headed back into the castle with Teagan.

0=={=========-

He sat before the fire in the study and sipped at his wine, thinking back more of his templar days. Victor smiled over the days of training, when he was inducted into the Order and then his promotion to knight-captain. The Circle then was a bustle of quiet activity, the mages and templars living in a favorable harmony. He respected magic but didn't trust that in the long run, mages wouldn't fall into temptation by the demons of the Fade. It was a huge responsibility and often had the young children who showed the propensity for magic, grow up quickly and ostracized from the rest of the world.

Victor was a harsh man, one who believed in discipline and the tenants of the Maker. If he noticed any abuses taken by either mage or his own templars, Victor quickly dealt with the matter. Thus, Kinloch Hold saw few possessions or escapes during his years there. Well, except for a couple of particular mages that was determined to be nothing but a headache.

Cullen. That promising young man that he remembered before the blank wall of his memory. That young templar was a quiet man, and shy. Cullen was an orphan taken off the streets of Amaranthine. There was a core of steel in him that Victor admired, which proved the young man was going to achieve much in his lifetime. Cullen refused to give up and pulled himself through the Fade in order to better his life. In many ways, Cullen was much like Victor in his younger years.

My, things have changed these days, however. Victor was no longer a templar, his blood no longer sang with lyrium, having been weaned off the addictive substance since he was found on the lakeshore. He shuddered at the echoes of the extreme pain of withdrawal. The great sword lying across his lap now with the flaming sword carved on the hilt proved to Victor that this was the last tie to his former life.

A whisper of skirts walked into the study, going to a bookshelf to put a couple of books up and grabbed more. Victor raised his eyes, watched the young mage purse his lips, and run his fingers along the bindings of the books. Victor recognized the young man now, and the many headaches he had caused the knight-captain.

"Jowan." Victor called to him.

The mage froze from his browsing as the voice of the former templar called out his name. Jowan shivered as now, the man remembered who he was, most of all, who Jowan was. "Yes, serrah?"

"It is a surprise that you are still here."

Jowan turned to face the intimidating older man. "I'm h…here at the arl's mercy. Until…the Circle can retrieve me."

"And why haven't they?" Victor raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure. Something happened to the Circle after I had escaped."

"Did not the Warden say anything to you?"

Jowan shook his head and sighed deeply. "No. Nor Wynn or the First Enchanter, when they returned with the Warden to help save the boy."

"You helped with that, did you not?" Victor asked with faint interest.

"I did, ser. It is why I am not dead today."

"In all rights, you should be, apprentice."

The mage flinched at the title. It was a reminder that he was unharrowed and would never go through the Harrowing. Because of his impatience and passion for a girl, Jowan resorted to blood magic. It was easy and brought more power than he had achieved learning spirit, elemental, or force magic. However, Jowan paid a heavy price for dealing with forbidden magic. Lowering his head, Jowan walked to where Victor sat and stood in front of him.

"I should, knight-captain, but by the Warden's and arl's mercy, I will await judgment by the Circle."

"Thankfully, there are men far more tolerable than I am to deal with a malificarum." Victor paused a moment and then continued. "As I am no longer a templar, I can say this, Jowan. Your actions here are probably your saving grace. Learn from your mistakes, young man, and do not try Irving's or Greghoire's patience where you had tried mine."

"Trust me, I have learned!" Jowan breathed a sigh of relief. "I lost everything I knew by doing what I did, and to hear the rumors of what happened at the Circle…" He shut his mouth then when Victor pierced a look at him.

"What have you heard?" Victor asked harshly.

"I heard that there…that…um, that demons took possession of the Circle." His voice was a whisper toward the end of the statement. "It's just what I heard! The Warden took care of the problem and the Circle is …well, fine, I guess."

"I see." Victor said in a deadpan voice.

Jowan cocked his head to the side. "You really don't know what happened. You arrived in Redcliff shortly after the trouble started in the Circle."

Victor's eyes widened at this bit of news. "You are positive that is the time of my washing up on the shore?"

"Positive." Jowan trembled, biting at his lower lip nervously. "The mother superior discovered you after a pair of girls found you. She recognized you as one of the Circle's templars."

"Where is my surcoat and armor then?" Victor said harshly.

"You had naught but the chain hauberk, that sword on your lap, and the Order's medallion."

Victor's lips pressed thin as he stared hard at the young mage before him. To find out that head of Redcliff's chantry knew him and kept a part of the things he washed up with had him slowly seething in anger deep inside. What did the woman think she was accomplishing by keeping vital facts of his life from him? Teagan was honest enough to tell Victor that they were old childhood friends but the woman in charge of the village's spirituality was not? He was one of the Maker's knights! Taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves and the rage shaking in his hands, Victor grabbed his sword and set down his glass. Slowly, he stood up before Jowan. The mage flinched at the towering man before him but as Victor laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it squeeze, Jowan dared to hope that the man wouldn't do anything untoward to him.

"Thank you for telling me, Jowan. My memory is slowly coming back except for the most recent events. I can't get a straight answer to the questions I have had about Kinloch and how I came here."

"Y…you're welcome, ser."

"I believe your guard is waiting for you."

Jowan swallowed and quickly turned away, scampering out of the study and from the strange, tense meeting with the former knight-captain of Kinloch Hold.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author: CelticWolfwalker  
Rating: M (for future language and scenes)  
Game: Dragon Age  
Characters: OC Victor  
Disclaimer: This is an original character that I created to write out a storyline that I had in mind. It will follow similar events in DAO and DA2 but all from the perspective of another man that isn't the hero that saved Fereldan or the Free Marches. **

**Dragon Age: Requiem  
Chapter Four**

He looked at the front doors to the chantry, debating whether he wanted to confront the Grand Cleric about the circumstances upon which he arrived on Redcliff's shores. Also, if she still had the remainder of this things, did Victor want them back? He once was a Templar but hasn't even done his duties of one in weeks. Then there was the issue of lyrium. The lyrium was gone from his body. Victor couldn't even summon a simple tracking spell now. With the loss of lyrium, Victor lost much of his Templar abilities. In his mind, he knew the incantations to activate certain spells still. However, the power to activate them was gone. To that end, Victor decided it was best to remain free of the lyrium. He still shuddered at the memories of the pain when in withdrawal.

"Do you need some help, ser?" A lovely feminine voice called through his thoughts.

Looking down, Victor saw a very pretty face of a young woman with blonde hair look up to him. She had a pert nose and sumptuous lips that men dream of, among a face with strong bone structure. The young woman was no extraordinary beauty but was more handsome, in an impish way. Victor could see the upwards quirk at the corner of her mouth that denoted she was used to smiling and laughing. He smiled his winning charming smile at her, hoping to disarm the woman.

"Not really. More like debating with myself of whether I want to go into the Chantry. I need to speak to the Grand Cleric but I don't want to disturb her."

The woman laughed with a melodic trill. "Yes, Helena is kept quite busy. She is often helping with the refugees from the Bannorn and outlying farms. You can say that her and the sisters are a bit taxed right now because of the war."

"So, I guess I will have to wait another day." Victor sighed and turned around, ready to head back up the cliff toward the castle.

"Do you want me to leave her a message?" The woman called out.

Victor paused and looked over his shoulder. "That's alright, it can wait." He walked away, his lips quirking a bit and waiting to see if the woman would stop him, as others had. She was pretty and her features pleased him. When he reached the blacksmith's, there was no call for him to stop or the woman rushing up to him. His smile lessened as his feet continued on. Giving an inward shrug, Victor continued out of the village and toward the castle.

0=={=========-

A couple of days passed before Victor had time to go to the village again and this time, enter the Chantry. The sky was grey and there was a chill on the breeze that spoke of winter approaching in a few weeks time. Fewer refugees were arriving now and there was fewer reports of Darkspawn raids on outlying farms. The main horde had already moved beyond Redcliff and into the heart of the Bannorn and toward the Coastlands. The first harvest was already being pulled into the stores of the village, with abandoned houses now turned into extra storage houses to help store the food needed for the growing population of Redcliff.

As Victor walked into the Chantry, many refugees had taken to spending their days sitting on the pews in prayer. He walked slowly down the central aisle and toward the statue of the Maker at the end. His eyes traveled up to the large imposing father figure that had a hand outstretched to His children. Victor's heart was disquiet when he stood before Thedas' god. Kneeling down on one knee at the feet of the statue, Victor lowered his head, one arm crossed his chest, and the other rested on the ground in supplication.

"Maker, forgive me for all I have done, all I can't remember and having left your service." Victor intoned quietly. "My heart is in chaos and does not know which way to go, nor does it know if it should return to your service as a knight. I wish I could remember the events at the Circle and why I hesitate in learning the truth." He swallowed hard, feeling the Maker's eyes upon him. "Others have need of my talents, my service. If we are to survive this war, I feel obligated to help these people to survive."

Victor raised his eyes unto the statue, the sun broke through the clouds and streamed down into the Chantry's windows. He blinked back a sudden welling of tears as he felt the chaos in his heart quiet some. It was if confirmation of his prayer and decision was heard. The anger he held deep inside lessened and then Victor thought twice about confronting Grand Cleric Helena regarding his material possessions that she may or may not have. The life of a Templar was past him. The only reminder that Victor had of that previous life was the sword given to him upon his promotion.

"Serrah Victor?" Helena approached him as Victor concluded his prayer and stood up from the floor.

"Your Grace, forgive my intrusion." He bowed his head in respect.

"No need to apologize. The Chantry is open to all. I find it curious that you should come here instead of using the shrine in the castle."

"I needed to get away." Victor paused. "In honest truth, I had come to speak to you of my arrival in Redcliff and retrieve any of my things that I might still have."

"Ah. Would you care for a walk in the garden?"

"It would be a pleasure, Your Grace."

The two of them walked out through a side servant's door in the Chantry and into a small garden that grew medicinal plants and some culinary plants. They walked in silence for a while, Victor having calmed enough to be reasonable with the head of the village's Chantry. "What is on your mind?" Helena asked the imposing man.

"I need for you to relate all about how I arrived and the events that have happened in the Circle. I need to know. There is no point in not telling me the truth or protecting me from it anymore. I know who I am, or was, a Knight-Captain of the Templars at Kincloch. Those past memories have returned and keep doing so every day. Recent events, well, that is still a block. Something terrible has happened at the Circle and I would like to know what has transpired." Victor stated.

Helena looked at the former Templar with an inscrutable look, assessing if the man was sound enough of mind to know of the events that had transpired at the Circle. She had recently come back from Kinloch a few days ago, visiting the place and offering prayers to the students and Templars that were left. The Templars were jumpy around the remaining mages, with due reason. In fact, the young man, Cullen, who was with Victor during the push to reclaim the tower, was still there but suffering from severe trauma. The Warden exacted a promise from Irving and Greagoir to work together to strengthening the Circle, for he would need them to fight the Darkspawn horde.

She took in a deep breath and let it out, facing the large man before her. "I suppose you have a right to know. You are of sound mind and health. You washed up on the shore of Redcliff after the failed attempt by the Templars to overtake Uldred. You led the main guard in the tower, from what I was told. For all that you attempted to defeat Uldred, you were overcome, your knights killed...except for one."

Victor's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"A young man named Cullen."

His eyes widened a little, jaw tightening to know only one of his knights was left alive. However, his intuition about Cullen's innate sense to survive and from what he drilled into the young man, Victor only gave a nod of approval for his survival. "What happened?"

"When I tried to console Cullen, he talked about the events, even though it tortured him. He saw you thrown out the tower window by Uldred and his Abominations. You are lucky to have survived the fall into the lake. The young knight, however, wasn't so lucky. He was trapped and tortured, believing all to be dead within the Order and the Circle."

"Oh, Maker!" Victor blew out in surprise.

"Greagoir is keeping a close watchful eye on the man."

"He is lucky to be alive!" Victor ground his jaw.

"He is." Helena nodded. "A young woman and her sister discovered you hours after the fall of the Circle, unconscious and feverish on the shore at the end of the village's shore. The young woman did all she could to pull you up onto dry land and stabilize you. We don't know what happened to your armor, as you washed up with only your chain shirt, sword, and clothing. Once you were brought into the Chantry and to a private room, it wasn't but a couple of days before you went into lyrium withdrawal."

"How bad was it?" Victor said quietly.

"Very serious. The fever and pain was shaking your body apart. It was my first time experiencing a Templar's withdrawal. I was...I thought you would die." The Grand Cleric whispered the latter.

"I remember the pain...and singing." Victor closed his eyes as flashes of that hazy time came to him.

"One of our village healers was there, helping you through the worst part of the withdrawal. She had knowledge that the sisters lack in how to deal with the violent symptoms. Her singing was the only way to calm you down."

"It's all so hazy..." Victor sighed heavily.

"It is probably best to not dwell on it, Victor. That part of your life is over with and the Maker has offered you a second chance at life."

"Indeed. However, I don't think I could go back to the Order, Your Grace. I shudder to think of taking lyrium again in order to do my duty. Oh, I still remember the taste and feel of power from the vile stuff but I detest having to rely on anything in order to perform my duty!"

"I understand. What you are doing here, it is appreciated and much needed." Helena told Victor.

"I haven't seen the foul things but have seen the aftermath. We all need any help that can be gotten in order to live to the end of this war. Eamon has lost many knights due to this foolish quest of the Arlessa's."

"Yes he has. That foolish woman...excuse my lapse of respect, but I have argued with her against sending those men to look for a legendary item. The Warden may have found the ashes and returned with it to heal our Arl, still, Isolde has weakened Redcliff against this civil war and this Blight."

Victor remained silent, thinking about what the Grand Cleric told him. Yes, Isolde had done a foolish thing but she did love her husband and was desperate. Women did foolish things in the name of love. All he could do was help supplement the knights with his own training, into getting a passable fighting force to defend Redcliff, and possibly Thedas. "Thank you, Your Grace. I don't mean to take up your time with my search for answers."

"It was time you knew, Victor. My last visit to Kinloch has seen quite a bit of improvement. Greagoir has asked after you."

He blinked, surprised his former Knight-Commander asked about him. "Thank you for letting me know. I don't know if I have time to go see him."

"I understand. It would be good if you made the time, however, just for the closure. Maybe you can see Cullen and talk with the young man."

Victor fidgeted, his eyes flicking off toward the dark tower in the lake. "Maybe. We'll see. I must not keep you from your duties any longer." He dipped his head in respect to Helena. "Thank you, once again."

He took his leave from the head of Redcliff's chantry and headed back to the castle, deep in thought over the news about the Circle.

0=={=========-

_The thing in the middle of the Harrowing Chamber looked at the Knight-Captain with utter contempt. This was no longer Uldred, Victor believed that in his heart. The man Uldred was dead and in his stead was an abomination. Not just any abomination but a thing which all Templar's feared a mage would fall prey to. A demon had entered into this world from the Fade, using Uldred as his passage. He gripped the hilt of his greatsword tighter, his eyes glancing over to the dazed Cullen. _

"_You are a fool! Do you think you can stop me, Templar?" The deep voice coming from Uldred's voice boomed through the chamber. "You are but one man!" The demon wearing a human face gave him a sneer. _

"_If it costs me my life, I give it in order to stop you from going further into this world, demon!" Victor growled._

_Uldred laughed. "Oh, noble and selfless Knight-Captain, always doing what is RIGHT! You, who kill young mages should they fall to temptation and promises of power. You are nothing but a glorified and sanctioned murderer."_

"_That may be but it is to protect this Circle and the people of Fereldan." Victor's eyes narrowed as he tensed his muscles to make his move. When Uldred threw back his head to laugh again, he roared and charged the demon. _

_Cullen looked up with sudden clarity, just in time to see his superior charge the possessed mage, not even getting close to the man before Uldred flung the Knight-Captain away. Victor had a look of surprise on his face as he felt his feet leave the ground and was airborne. Instead of meeting a wall, as he suspected, the clash of glass at his back made his heart speed in fear. There was a brief second as Victor realized he was outside the tower, then plunging through the air to the dark waters below._

_There was no time to scream as the weight of the armor sped up his descent and had him crash through the surface of the lake hard. Water enveloped over his head, his body starting to sink toward the bottom. It wasn't far as his feet hit the ledge that then dropped off to the depths of Lake Calenhad. Holding his breath, Victor pried at the buckles of his plate, his heart pounding hard and fast in his ears. One buckle released, then the next. It was enough for him to shrug out of the breast plate and shoulder guards. The edges of his sight started to turn dark as the oxygen in him started to turn to poison, slowly suffocating him. Victor resisted the urge to gasp and take in the water around him as his lungs burned. He didn't get much of a gasp of air before hitting water, so he struggled fiercely to relieve himself of armor so he could swim to the surface._

_All that was left was his chain hauberk and skirt. Victor vainly pulled at the material of the skirt and after a couple of jerks, ripping it free. Using his legs, Victor pushed off the ledge weakly, using his free arm to pull his body up to the surface. It seemed like an eternity before his head broke surface. A loud gust of exhaled breath sounded and then a gulp of fresh air. This made Victor's vision swim before his eyes, leaving him light headed. He weakly and awkwardly shoved his sword in the shoulder harness that remained after taking the plate off. It took the last of his energy and he panted heavily. The water was cold and after a few minutes keeping abreast on the surface, Victor's teeth chattered uncontrollably. _

_Victor waded around in a circle, taking in the surroundings. From here at the shore level, there was no entrance into the tower except by the small inner harbor. By now, Greagoir would have closed the gate to the harbor, to further prevent escape by fleeing mages or abominations. His eyes traveled to the far shore of the mainland and sighed at the distance of the swim. Exhausted from fighting and several bleeding cuts, Victor gritted his teeth from the small part in his mind that wanted to give in to hopelessness. A few feet away, a cast off boat lazily headed out to the center of the lake. Hoping that maybe there were oars in there, Victor's sense of grim determination and survival kicked in. He paddled tiredly toward the boat and grasped the gunwale. His arms trembled from the cold and exhaustion, thinking he didn't have enough strength to pull himself into the boat. _

_Taking in a few deep breaths, Victor lunged up to propel himself over the edge. The weight of his sodden body and light armor precariously tipped the boat close to capsizing. Victor had enough sense to roll his body in and let the boat rock back to an upright and steady position. He coughed and thudded his head at the bottom of the boat. Roaming with his eyes around the inside of the boat, Victor groaned in dismay. There were no oars. _

The former Templar sat upright with a start, his heart beating hard against his chest. The bedchamber was dark and the sheets of the bed were a tumbled mess. Something stirred next to him, mumbling sleepily and then reaching toward him. Victor looked down to see a feminine hand pat at his arm. For some reason, this annoyed him and he growled angrily. "Get up!"

The woman blinked her eyes open and stared blearily at him. "What?"

"Get up!" Victor rumbled dangerously. "Get your clothes and leave!"

She woke fully, confusion set in her pretty face. It was the scullery maid he flirted with a time or two and finally cajoled to his bed. Right now, after the dream/memory, Victor wanted the young woman gone. "What's the matter?"

"Do not ask me any questions. It is none of your concern. Now, don't make me repeat myself. Get your things and leave!" Victor's voice rose in irritation.

"I could help..." The woman got a little of a whine in her voice at Victor's brusque manner.

"A little whore like you?" Victor sneered. "Doubt it."

The scullery maid's eyes opened wide in shock and she immediately scrambled from the bed. As she fetched her chemise and the rest of her clothing, her eyes kept looking over to the hunched dark form of Victor at the edge of the bed. She opened her mouth to say something but he looked balefully at her, making her scamper out the door quickly without another word.

Grinding his teeth, Victor could still fell the remnants of the dream, no, memory, of the night he had confronted Uldred. It was so clear, the smells, the exhaustion, the blood...all of it so perfectly succinct in it's clarity that it made Victor tremble inside. He probably shouldn't have snapped at the young woman but he didn't want to show his fear and weakness to anyone. Rubbing at his face, grimacing at the rasp of a day's growth on his cheeks, Victor tried to push away sleep and the reawakened memory of that fateful day he was cast from the tower.

"Maker help me!" Victor groaned, dropping his head into his hands. The events of that day was horrific and it was no wonder why his mind blocked the memory of that time. His knights, dead. Victor started to relive the cause of each death, as he and his men were constantly pressed by the abominations and rage demons. However, Helena mentioned Cullen still lived. Still, the young man must be suffering, for he also witnessed the slaughter of his fellow Templars, just as Victor did. No amount of training could prepare a man for the fear of unleashed chaos and hate from mages.

Tyler.

Josephus.

Morgan.

Killian.

Derrick.

Rafe.

Each face flashed before his mind's eye, making Victor flinch harder as he saw each Templar overpowered by rebel mages, demons, or Abominations. Only Cullen and he made it to the Harrowing Chamber and once inside, Uldred incapacitated the young knight, leaving Victor free to parley with him. Victor was no match, however, for the demon inside the enchanter.

Growling in anger at the loss and failure, Victor rushed up from the bed, his arm sweeping the things on the bedside table to the floor. Next he stalked to the dresser and did the same for the ewer of water and the washing bowl. Pacing around the bedroom, Victor tore sheets and blankets off the bed, pulling at the curtains on the canopy, and anything he could find to vent out his rage and sorrow.

0=={=========-

There came a knock at the door but Victor ignored it. He sat on the floor of the decimated room, staring at the stone wall, undressed and unmoving. The door opened and a grunt was heard as it was pushed against tossed chairs, clothing, and other miscellaneous things. Teagan walked into the chaotic mess of a normally tidy and orderly room. His eyes traveled to the silent, brooding figure sitting on the floor, legs up and arms resting on the knees. Victor didn't acknowledge Teagan's entrance but continued to stare blankly at the bare stone wall.

Teagan carefully walked over the mess on the floor and approached his childhood friend. Crouching down at the Templar's side, he laid a comforting hand on Victor's shoulder. Victor flinched at the touch and slowly turned his dead gaze to Teagan. "I take from this chaos in here, that you know what happened."

"Painfully everything." Victor said quietly in a dead tone of voice.

"Saying I'm sorry would not help."

"No."

"What will you do?" Teagan asked.

Victor's eyes sparked with emotion, the grief and anger shining in them for Teagan to see. "What can I do? My men are dead and I led them to their deaths."

"You did as you were trained to do, my friend, and as you trained your men to do."

"I could have trained them better." Victor said bitterly and with dripping contempt.

"How do you accomplish that? Summon demons for those knights to train on? Or have a malificarum available to fight against? There is Jowan here in the castle."

"He's nothing but an untalented whelp!" Victor barked out.

"He has enough talent to help train my nephew until the Circle can take him." Teagan shot back.

"Oh, yes, but not enough that he couldn't stop a desire demon from enslaving him and causing misery for the residents of this castle and the village." Victor countered caustically. "Jowan is a menace, to himself and to others."

"He did the best he could, however." Teagan tried to reason. "Just as you and your knights did."

"That..." Victor paused as Teagan's words sank into his numb mind. His jaw clenched as he mulled over the simple logic. There was a few moments of silence as Victor played over the final hours of his fight in Kinloch and to what was happening now, in the present. If Greagoir offered his position back, should he go to Kinloch again, would Victor go back? Then what would happen to the simple people of Redcliff as they battled against Darkspawn or their own countrymen? Could he truly ready these men and women against a great foe like the Darkspawn? He failed miserably at protecting the Circle from the demons within. Then he had left, without finding some way into the tower after being flung out the window.

Victor hung his head and sighed deeply. "What can I do?"

"Continue on as you have done, my friend." Teagan said sympathically. "Prepare the people here to fight this war or if the call to be a Templar is still there, go back to the Circle. Look, Victor, everyone one of us has failure a time or two in their life, some being rather epic. You are no quitter, never were."

"You are right." Victor said sorrowfully. "I realized when I walked into the Chantry in the village and knelt to pray, I could no longer go back to being a Templar. Some days I still crave for lyrium but the saner side of me is glad to not rely on the stuff. I don't feel...shackled. I am enjoying this new freedom."

"Then take advantage of this new life, Victor. Don't let what happened in the past rule your future. You are a good man, if a bit rough around the edges." Teagan gave a smile.

"Rough?" Victor looked over to his friend.

"You want me to be polite?"

"Maker no!"

"You demand the best of yourself, and thus demand that same standard for others. That is what makes you a good leader of men, a good trainer. Despite that those young men and women bitch and moan about your harsh methods and unforgiving drills, they are capable of defending themselves now, unlike before. How long did your knights last before they fell?"

Victor thought back on the troubles of the Circle and his men pushing through several barricades. They never died easily and took as much out before their wounds were too great. He trained Cullen the hardest, pushing that young man beyond exhaustion and of all of the others, he survived the uprising. Victor nodded at what Teagan was trying to tell him. "They didn't die easily."

"I didn't think so. Now, are you done feeling sorry for yourself?" Teagan chuckled.

"Oh, please, Teagan!" Victor scoffed but felt a little better after the talk with his friend. He looked at his friend and around at the mess of his bedchamber, then frowned. "How did you know to come find me?"

"You didn't show up for your drills. Also, a certain maid didn't show for her duties and when confronted at her room, she said that you were mean and ordered her out of your room. It was hard to make exact details as she was blubbering. However, I did catch the word 'whore' in there. Now, I know someone who gets a little insulting when upset."

"I don't get upset." Victor pressed his mouth into a tight line. "I'm sorry to have insulted the young woman but I didn't want her there nor her comfort. The more she tried to impose her help, I got irritated."

"Either way, she was rather upset. Luckily, Isolde doesn't know and Eamon is keeping a tight lid on the matter, having me soothe things over."

Victor gave a slight nod and sighed. "Thank you, Teagan."

"Don't thank me yet. I need you for something. I got a scouting report that there is a small band of Darkspawn wandering the outlying farms and homesteads. We still have a few people who refuse to come to the village for their safety. I don't want to hear about another family dying on our watch."

"You want me search this band out?"

"Yes, and take three of your better men and women with you. It would be good practice for them."

"Indeed. I know who would be capable for this."

"Good." Teagan stood up and stretched, wincing as his back and knees popped. "Have you considered going to Kinloch and seeing Greagoir?"

"I have. I just don't know if it would help anything."

"Maybe it will help bring closure."

"Maybe."

With that, Teagan left the room, leaving Victor alone again in the quiet and facing a mess in the bedchamber and a mess of his life that he needed to get back in order.


End file.
